Plucked Chords in Frozen Chests
by SoulMistress12
Summary: Boom, boom, boom. This music is so senseless and dull and it's hurting my head. Why won't anyone turn it off? Why don't they understand what I'm saying? Insanity fic.


_A/N: I know I should be working on Host, but I was listening to _Labyrinth_ by _Oomph!_,_ _and this was born.  
__...I probably should stop listening to songs like that._

_Regardless, please read, enjoy, and review!_

* * *

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The music is so loud it hurts my head, but every time I ask them to turn it down they just laugh. I laugh along because it's polite, but I don't get the joke.

Boom.

The world can be confusing, sometimes.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

It's such a long song they're playing, and it's not even a good one. It's just a stupid booming noise, over and over again.

Boom.

I wonder when it will end.

Boom.

Boom.

Someitmes I claw at my face and arms, because when I do that the music becomes quieter and I can hear myself think.

Boom.

But then I wish I couldn't.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

_(never quieter, always louder, louderlouderLOUDER)_

Images appear, in time with the song I have come to loathe. I pretend that I am watching a music video, like the ones I used to before I moved here. There are faces that look strange, and there are things like setting suns and painted floors. These images were fun at first but they never change either.

Boom.

After a while I realized that I could remember nothing but these images.

Boom.

Boom.

The images hurt too, but they don't chaffe my head like the wordless music. They strike chords in my chest that are not supposed to be struck.

_Boom._

I feel funny. The music is getting louder again.

_Boom._

_Boom._

_Boom._

It's getting closer. The images are coming faster now, too, and brighter. Shining and slippery pictures, almost like they're near me. Almost like I can touch them.

Almost like they can touch me.

BOOM.

BOOM.

_BOOM._

click-clack-click-clack-click-clack-click-clack

My ears perk up. This is new, the clicking noise. I've never heard it before and I wonder what it could mean.

CLANG.

...?

The only door in my room swings open, and a man steps in and I wonder who it is? I wonder who is visiting me now? Maybe he will turn the music down for me?

I open my mouth to ask him the question, but when I choke the words up, the man does not understand. He stares at me, confused. He asks a question.

"Are you okay?"

Okay? Of course I'm okay. All he has to do is turn the music off, and my headache will go away. Go away. I wonder how that will feel. I've can't even remember what it feels like, to wake up and have a painless body and smile.

I ask him to turn the noise off again. Spit dribbles down my chin and I wipe it away roughly.

Suddenly, the look in his eyes morphs into something I don't understand. It looks like sadness, but not really. Almost like he's feeling sad for me. Because I'm not sad. Should I be sad? This person is confusing me. The headache is getting worse. I wish he would leave and get someone who could end the song.

Turn the music off.

Turn it off.

Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off.

I repeat it over and over to help him understand, but -

"Do you know English?"

The words are slow, patient.

Of course I do! I scream back. I was raised here, in this country, and I'm speaking to you right now! Right now right now right now!

This only intensifies the look in his eyes. "Can you speak at all?"

Can't he hear what I'm saying? I'ms speaking a language. I'm speaking his language. I'm asking him to help, to help me. What's wrong? Why doesn't he get it?"

Even after all of my requests, nothing moves but the orbs in his head. They swirl back and forth, between me and something that he's holding. They watch me move. It hurts to move. I'm not sure why I'm doing it, but my body seems to think that it should. I jerk back and forth on the floor.

"Sorry," he says. "Sorry, I'm so sorry."

Why is he sorry? Is he telling me that he can't do what I'm asking?

Unexplicable rage burns across the plucked chords in my heart.

If you can't help, why did you stop here? Why are you bothering me? To stare? To mock? I howl.

This time, he responds. Slowly, he raises the item in his hands so that both of us have one end pointing towards us.

What is the point of that? Maybe he didn't understand what I said the last time because I am thrashing too quickly, flipping back and forth. Something dribbles out of my mouth but it doesn't feel like drool. It feels frothy and it's weird.

I wonder where the song's went. It hasn't sounded in a while. Maybe -

BOOM!

.

.

.

click-clack-click-clack-click-clack-click-clack

click-clack-click-clack-click-clack.

CLANG.

...

...

...

(...Boom.)


End file.
